Trouble In Brooklyn
by TroubleDaNewsie
Summary: A year has past since the newsie's strike. With Manhattan under new rule, and Harlem looking to start a war; Trouble, Manhattan's new queen looks to Brooklyn's famous King for help.
1. Character Information

ABOUT THE CHARACTER

Name: Alexandra Harper

Newsie Name: Trouble

Age: 17

Gender: Female

Facial Properties: Her face is pale with freckles spotting her full cheeks. Her nose is button-like and cute in it's own way. Her eyes are a steely gray color and her hair is a dark shade of red. Her face is slender, but not sickly. With high cheek bones and supple lips. The coldness of her eyes seems to sear right through you, and her hair is long enough to brain and put in a hat.

Physique: Her body is athletic like most newsies. Slender, but curvy. Not that you could ever see through the baggy boys clothes she almost always wears. Her breasts are of a good size, and it seems the rest of her is pale as well. She has a slight tan to her, but she's much whiter then the rest of the newsie crew. Which might be due to her fair skin. Trouble is of average height for a girl, standing at about five feet six inches.

Personality: Trouble is a fighter, and she is very quick to lash you with that forked tongue of hers. She's very kind to people she trusts, but only in one on one situations. She learned to fight at a young age, and ever since then she has had the mindset of a street kid with nothing to lose. She is sharp witted, and she'll attack you with words as well as her fists. She has a soft spot for kids, and she takes care of the younger ones of the streets, and Lodging Houses' like they were her siblings. She likes to believe that she is the best fighter, and the best shot in all of New York.

She is cold to everyone at first, but she does have a sense of humor and fun. She is filled to the brim with sarcasm, and tasteful humor. Sometimes she can be rather crude, and violent. But she means well. Trouble doesn't believe in love, but rather that love is something unattainable to her. She likes to be straight-forward, but she does tend to dance around her words sometimes to confuse people. She'll never leave someone to be hurt if she can help it, even if it means getting herself hurt in the process. She tends to steal when she's low on cash, and she also seems to attract trouble where ever she goes. Hence the nickname.

Likes:

-Books (She'll never tell)

-Swimming

-Fighting

-Boys (She'll never admit it)

-Sparring

-Confusing people

-Making Trouble

-Helping people (Which gets her into Trouble....)

-Marbles

-Her Slingshot

Dislikes:

-Arrogance

-Naivity

-Annoying people

-People who talk to much

-Most other girls

-Sitting in one place to long

-Being forced into something

-Being forced into conversation

-Back talkers

-People who are rude to her

-People who Taunt her about being a girl

-People who call her weak.

History: Not a lot is known about her past before she was on the streets, and that's just none of your business. She was born, and then she was a street rat. At the young age of eleven, Trouble ran away from home, and found herself in The Bronx. How she got then she can't even remember. The streets were dirty and she could hear voices all around her. It had been a couple times that she had almost been in trouble, but for the moment she was faring alright. After turning at the corner of the alleyway, she stumbled into a boy who was clearly a few years older then her. when he saw her his frown of anger turned into an evil smirk of revenge.

He picked her small body up off the ground and pinned her up against the wall. She begged to be let go but the boy refused to listen, or just didn't care. He had began to pull back his arm, his fist clenched in purpose. He was still to young to know the urges of a man, which looking back, Trouble would still thank whatever higher being had taken pity on her for even just that moment. The little red head closed her eyes waiting for the impact that she was sure was going to come. But when it did she still let out a surprised yelp of pain. It hurt like hell. Her jaw ached in pain, and her steel eyes widened when she saw the boy pulling his arm back for another go.

This went on for a few minutes, her breath all but gone when she was finally let go. She slid down against the wall, her head lolling around weakly. Her vision was blurring, but she caught the boy saying something about someone coming, and then she heard feet hitting the ground as the two boys scampered away. She could feel her lips bleeding as the sticky liquid rolled down her chin. She was also sure that at least one of her ribs were broken, and she was bleeping from someplace above her eyes. Her head was aching, and so was her eyes, jaw and stomach. They hadn't left her untouched.

It was only a few seconds later that she heard the pounding of feet again, and she heard someone telling another to get someone.. The one remained, and she tried to lift her head to see who it was. She felt one of her arms being grabbed as more feet came into the alley. Soon after an arm slipped under her legs, and she was lifted from the ground. A sharp pain jolted through her, and she couldn't stop the whimper of pain from escaping her pale lips. The pain continued, and she felt herself falling away.

It had been a few years since the boys of The Bronx had found her, and she was about fourteen now. Alley, the leader of the Bronx had introduced her to the newsie life, and had brought her into the family with open arms. He taught her how to fight, to sell, to "improve the truth", and even how to play poker like the rest of the boys. It had been a hard day to sell, and she was finishing later then usual. She found herself walking through an alleyway, and that's when the familiar feeling hit her. Her steel gray eyes looked around her and her eyes widened when she realized that she had been here before.

Just like back then she met cold eyes staring at her, and she immediately recognized them. No, this time she wasn't going to be the one being beaten.. Within seconds she had launched herself at the boy, her fighting instinct like Alley called it kicked in fast. After a few moments she found herself pinned to the ground by her neck, and she frantically looked around for something to fend him off with. Her fingers hit a lone brick, and she quickly clasped her hands around it and swung it down against the boys head. His body went limp, and it took all of her strength to push him off.

For a minute she didn't breathe, her eyes just staring at the boy in front of her. When he didn't breathe she went for a pulse, and her breathing sharpened and then grew ragged when she realized she had killed him. She scrambled to her feet and ran. She had no idea where she was going, or what she was going to do she just ran. Her feet carried her to the Lodging house and after making a quick decision, she packed her stuff up and scrawled out a quick goodbye note for Alley.

She took off from the Lodging house, and didn't look back. They wouldn't understand..


	2. Chapter One: The Flashback

_Drip, splash.…_

The rain pounded against the cold window pane endlessly. Steel gray eyes stared at the grimy windowsill with disdain as thoughts continued to flow like the rivers of water down the glass. A gray news cap was placed haphazardly on the sill, contrasting horribly with the white of the flaking paint. A lone figure shifted some, trying to find a better position to be in, as those cold eyes continued to gaze out, if not past the window. A lock of dark red hair fell out of the splotched newsboy hat that adorned the figures head. By the looks of the hat, it had been white at some point in time, and had seen better days. Slender fingers pushed the lock of hair back up into the hat, but the movement looked all but robotic.

A quiet sigh slipped past pale lips, and echoed in the near empty room. A crimson liquid dripped out of the corner of her mouth, but the girl made no move to wipe it away. Slowly the line of blood made it down to her chin, only to tumble down onto the pale snow colored shirt that she wore. As if waking from a trance, the girl looked down at the red mark on her shirt. As if realizing that she was bleeding for the first time, two fingers went to her lips and she pressed down softly. Pulling her fingers back from her face, her steel colored eyes locked on the dark red substance that was smeared on her fingers. Only a moment longer did she stare down at her fingers before her hand dropped back into her lap. Once again her eyes locked onto the grimy window. The rain was slowly stopping, and the cascades of water slowed.

"Look at whah da' day brought.. Defin'ly not whah I's es'pected.." the girl spoke, her pale lips parting only enough for those words to ooze out. A short, brown haired boy stood in the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest in worry. Just by looking at him, you could tell the boy was at least twelve. He shook his head some, and pushed off the wall to walk towards the girl. "How is that ya always know someone's heah?" the boy asked out of curiosity; stopping almost at her side. A nearly non-existent smile graced the girl's lips, but she never looked away from the smeared glass. "Instinct kiddo. Did'ja want somethin'?" she murmered with a slight chuckle. The kid shook his head slightly, somehow knowing that she'd see it even if she wasn't looking at him. "Nah, just seein' how you was holdin' up." The boy took a few hesitant steps closer to the red head, and noticed the blood running down her chin. The girl didn't reply. She didn't like explaining herself, or her actions. The presence of the boy was breaking her quiet though, so she pried her eyes from the window and settled them on the boy. "Trouble, you know youse bleedin' right?" the boy asked, his bright brown eyes looking up at her pale face. The girl sighed softly, and stood from the window sill, walking towards her bed. On the way there she grabbed up an old rag at wiped at her lips.

Trouble looked up at the brown haired boy and shrugged. "Dat betta Les?" The boys smiled at her and walked over as the girl plopped onto her bed with a sigh. "Ta ansah ya questin' kid, Ise doin' fine. Tell da otha's dat wouldja?" the girl asked, pulling her hat off her head and letting her crimson hair fall down her back. Les smiled warmly and nodded his head before walking out of the room again. The girl sighed, her head buzzing with thoughts, and her body aching from earlier that day. Gray eyes narrowed as she recalled the day that she had planned, and how it had come to an end.

_**Flashback**_

"Ey Boots, can ya take Snipes wid' ya ta' Brooklyn ta' speak wid' Spot Conlon 'bout our lil' get ta'getta?" the Leader inquired. Cold gray eyes watched the little newsie with interest to see if he'd take the job or not. When the kid nodded his head, the leader nodded back and switched her gaze onto two others. "Blink, Race, can ya handle Queens?" the fearless leader inquired again. This time on a blond with an eye patch, and her little Italian buddy. "Sure t'ing Trouba, we's be back soon." said the little Italian. A proud smirk graced the tanned Irish lass as she once again nodded her head in acknowledgment.

"Specs, Skittery, yous take Da Bronx. Alley's been askin' 'bout ya twos anywho." she announced, smirking at the two boys and aiming a evil grin towards Specs. The reason Alley had been asking about Snitch and Skittery, was because he had a sneaking suspicion that one of the two was the one that kissed his little sister. Yeah, Alley was wanting a word with whoever it had been, and by the looks on both their faces they knew it too. Trouble didn't give the two time enough to complain before she moved on to the last and final place. But who would she send there? "A'right now. Let's see heah. Um, Bumlets, and… Uh, Jake! Yeah, Bumlets and Jake, you'se two ah goin' ta Staten Isle a'right?" she voiced. The two nodded their heads, and Trouble vaguely overheard the two boys headed for the Bronx whispering hesitantly as they walked away. Smirking wickedly inside, Trouble turned to the remaining newsies, and shot them a confidant smirk. "Mouth, go fetch Jacky-boy fah me kay?" she questioned, though it was very much not a question. Her word was law, and anyone who broke the laws got soaked.

"The names Davey, and I'll go get Jack. But not because you told me to, just cause that was where I was goin' anyways." the curly headed boy replied. Trouble's steely eyes narrowed as she caught the bitterness in his statement. "Sure ya was. Now get outta heah, and getta move on Curly Cue." she retorted, her voice hard but interlaced with sarcasm. As she watched the brunette mop head leave, she spat on the ground to the side of her. That hadn't been the first time that kid had given her some trouble. No pun intended I assure you. The inner Trouble wanted to soak the kid good for his half ass attempt at back-talking, but her more refined (not by much) side told her different. He was just sore cause he wasn't able to control her like he had Jack. Beating down her dislike for "Mouth" she turned to look back at the remaining newsies. "Da rest of us get ta' go ta' Medda's and set up fah' da' meetin" she stated, her fingers gliding along the bill of her news boy hat out of habit. A cheer rang out, and the boys all started out for Medda's or other pre-arranged places to get ready for the shindig. Only two remained behind with Trouble, and that was Mush and Les. With a genuine smile on her face, Trouble started out for the Lodging House with Les on her shoulders, and Mush's arm around her waist. Life was good.


	3. Chapter Two: Spot's Brooklyn

_**Chapter Two: Spot's Brooklyn**_

The night had been set up beautifully. They had Medda willing to let them have the party there, she had sent out Ambassadors to the different Leaders, and she had even managed to scrounge up some change to buy cigars, cigarettes and some booze for the whole shindig… But of course something had to go wrong.. Something always went wrong..

Silently she nursed her bruised knuckles as she continued to watch the rain pound against her window. With the distinct lack of sound, she knew that most of the boys had turned in for the night, but most were just plain passed out drunk. Some newsies from the Bronx, Staten Island, and Queens were also mixed in with her own boys, but none from Brooklyn remained.

This had failed… They were alone.

__________________________________________________________________________________

_(Boots and Snipe Shooter)_

**Brooklyn**

Crossing the bridge was simple for the two younger boys. Though Boots was starting to wonder why him and Snipes had been chosen for this auspicious duty. Usually the leader would send Jack, or well him; but never Snipe Shooter. He usually went to the Bronx with Crutchy. The young newsie sighed softly as they crossed the bridge and into Spot's territory. Hopefully their friendly neighbor hood tyrant was in the mood for company or they would both be puppy chow by night fall. 'Ha, puppy chow. Spot. Haha.' Boots thought to himself as he fingered the small treasure trove of marbles he had been smart enough to bring as gifts to the mighty Spot.

Not even a few minutes into Brooklyn and already they were being tailed. The two boys looked around nervously as they continued to trudge along towards the docks, despite the glares of the two Brooklynites that were 'welcoming' them into the neighborhood. Apparently Brooklyn was being more cautious these days. Boots shifted his eyes to his companion. He felt a bit better seeing that he wasn't the only one that was nervous. Well, who wouldn't when you have two.. well, now three guy that are bigger then you tailing you through an entire borough. It definitely doesn't feel like Christmas, I'll tell ya that.

Once they had finally reached the docks, they had a grand total of five guys following them, and they had nearly given up and ran home. But they feared Trouble's wrath more then the five guys tailing them that hadn't done anything to them. Trouble wouldn't be so kind if they got scared and bailed. Boots caught Snipe peeking over his shoulder a lot, and reminded himself to tell Trouble that the next time she sends him to Brooklyn, to give him a taller companion. "Well looky heah boys. It's Boots and Snipe Shoota from 'Hattan." The two younger boys looked forward at the same time to come face to face with the one and only, Spot Conlon. He wasn't right up in their faces, but he was close enough to make Snipes whimper some. Boots smiled a bit at Spot and pulled his hand out of his pocket, revealing his present. "I gotcha some more shooters Spot, and a message for ya from Trouble." he stated, but only a moment later he realized he hadn't been asked why he was here. Had Spot been waiting for them? Most likely.. Spot had 'Little Boidies' all over New York. "How's Jacky-boy doin'?" Spot asked, while he climbed down from his 'throne' of crates, cane in hand. Boots was a bit confused of why he'd be asking about Jack at a time like this… but he figured he would humor Spot a little for Manhattan's sake and Trouble.

"He's good. Been workin' as a… Um. Prentance to our man Denton ova' at da Sun. Whateva dat is. Marryin' Sarah soon too." Boots replied, though he was a bit miffed that Spot was ignoring his original reason for being here. Once Spot was in front of him, he moved his hand up for the leader to examine the marbles he'd brought for the occasion. Spot grabbed a few and nodded before turning around and walking a few steps away from him. Slowly the blue eyed leader turned back around, his face as serious as death. "So whats dis "Trouble" send ya heah ta tell me Boots?" he inquired, after leaning against a few planks of wood. Boot smiled a bit, glad to finally be getting back on topic. "Invites ya ta come ta a meetin' of da Leada's a Medda's tanight. Theres gunna be free booze and udda stuff. Feel free ta invite some ah ya boys. It's gunna be a pahty ta rememba." he replied, his small smile growing as he noticed the tension slowly lifting from his shoulders. It wasn't all gone, but at least it wasn't so stifling now.

It wasn't hard to noticed the small smirk on the famous Spot Conlon's lips, but that could mean anything. It wasn't a secret that Spot was still mildly pissed off at Cowboy for turning scab. He hadn't been able to forgive him all the way, but would that mean he still wouldn't come; even with Jack gone? Mentally Boots crossed his fingers. Brooklyn had to come, or no one else would. He looked over as Snipe, who was at that very moment being stared down by three of Spot's newsies and looked ready to cry. "Aces, Bookeh, Thrice back off." Spot spat before looking at Boots once again. "Tell dis, Trouble person dat I'll be deah, and dat dis betta be good." he stated before spitting into his hand and extending it to the younger newsie. Boots could barely contain his happiness in a smile, but he managed. After spitting into his own hand and shaking Spot's he turned to Snipe Shooter and smirked before walking back towards home with the good news.

__________________________________________________________________________________

Trouble wanted to scream. Break something, hurt someone.. But her body wasn't going to let her. It was already screaming at her to lay down, and sleep to give it time to recover. The red head was hot headed though, and stubborn as a mule. She'd lay down when she damn well wanted to lay down, not when he body wanted to. Besides, how could she sleep now when her Manhattan was in as much trouble as it was, huh? It just wouldn't be right, and she wasn't about to give up yet. Tomorrow. Tomorrow she'd go to Brooklyn herself, and get Spot to back them.. Even if it killed her.


	4. Chapter Three: Alley's Borough

_So, this is the third chapter in my story, and excuse me if things look a little strange. I'm a first time writer here on FF. I want to send thanks out there to 0xlittlexmissxsunshinex0, and enchantedwriter72 for their reviews. As well as thanks to the anyone else who is reading my story. Sorry for the long absence, my laptop died and I was cut off from the chapters I had already written. Anyways, without further ado. Here's Chapter Three: Alley's Borough. _

_Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies, but if I did I'd keep Spot, and Mush with me everywhere, and Skittery in my closet!_

* * *

(Bronx with Specs and Skittery)

**Alley's Borough**

Skittery was nervous. This was not going to be very fun, he could tell. He and Specs had gone over what they were going to say a million times since their "merciful leader" had sent them off into the lion's den. The truth of the matter was, they had both kissed Siren, Alley's sister, and one of the Bronx's best, and well loved "boids". The kicker, was that they both knew how protective the leader was of his sister, and they felt both surprised, and a little betrayed at the thought that Siren would rat them out to her brother. Though, she might not have; Alley had a flock of "boidies" at his command, one of the biggest spy networks in the boroughs. Someone might have just seen them, and ran to tell the big guy. Honestly, that seemed more likely.

Bronx was a little unnerving, even in daylight, and they had only made it half way through so far. "So, let's go over dis' again. We's going to hold ta' fact that there are millions of people in dis' city, and the boid had to be mistaken." Specs prompted . "I don't think that's gunna go off to well wid' Alley Specs. It's like insultin' him when yous insult his boids." Skittery replied grimly. They were dead, that was it. He'd accepted this fact around an hour ago, but of course Specs had to try to be smart, and try to find a way to talk his way out of it. Specs made a noise of some sort, somewhere between a grunt and a moan. "Your right, but we gotta t'ing of somethin' ta' say or we's toast." Specs argued, now with a distinct whimper in his voice. Yeah, Skittery was scared too, but at least he wasn't whining quite as much.

From then on, the trip seemed to speed up, much to the boys dismay. A few moments later, and they were standing right outside the door of the Bronx bunk house. Currently, they were quietly arguing who was going to enter first. The thought of turning right around and going home had crossed their minds, but the fear of Trouble's fists at their cowardice had them cemented to the stoop. But of course, despite their attempts to keep their voices down, the door swung open to reveal a very annoyed Bronx's newsie. "Either your in of ya not. Choose quick, I'm missin a pokeh game upstairs cause a you two bums." the boy grunted. "Ey deah Hookie, what's shaken? Is Alley in?" Skittery replied. He surprised himself by the fact that his voice hadn't shook. "Yeah, get in. He's upstairs." Hookie replied before opening the door wider, and heading for the stairs. "Don't forget ta shut da door after ya." he muttered on his way up the stairs.

The two boys exchanged fearful looks before crossing the threshold, and quickly shutting the door. "We're screwed." Specs muttered under his breath. Silently the two boys walked forward, and then up the stairs. They'd come this far, and at this point even Specs had given up on saving himself. Upon entering the room, they both realized how similar the setup was to home. A few card tables, bunks, and a door tha they assumed led to the community bathroom. "Ah, Specs, Skittery. Good ta see ya. I'm guessing dat ya leadeh relayed my message then." a voice spoke out to them. Shivers ran rampant down both their spines, as they turned to catch the eyes of the Infamous Bronx leader, his sister Siren sitting to his right. "Uh… Heya deah Alley. Long time no see, eh?" Specs replied, his voice shaking nervously. "We's actually here cause our leader wanted to invite yous to a party ta'night at Medda's." Skittery shakily added.

An amused smirk formed on Alley's face, as he stood up from his seat at the shabby card table. "I see. Well, business first then. Tell ya leader that we'll be deah. Me, Siren, and a few 'udda boys." he replied, before spitting into his hand, and holding it out to the two. Specs, and Skittery eyed the hand like it was a bear trap, before Skittery mustered up what little courage he had left. Spitting into his own hand, he grasped Alleys, and shook. Their hands released, but now came the bad part. "Right then, we'll just be goin now…" Specs spoke, as he slowly backed up in the direction of the door. "Ah, see. Now we's got a problem.. See. A little boidie told me that one, or both of you's was kissin my sistah Siren." Alley said, his voice going a little serious. This was the part that they'd both been dreading, and of course, now was about the time that Skittery too, was backing up towards the door. "And see. We's need to have a little chat about dat before I can let you's to leave." he finished, as he snapped his fingers, and looked behind the two boys. Feeling another presence, the two looked behind them to find Cricket, another Bronx newsie standing in the doorway. A whimper escaped Spec's lips, as a look of horror appeared on his face.

Skittery was about ready to piss his shorts, but Alley they walked over to them and draped his arms over both of their shoulders. "See boys, I don't like people kissin' my sister wid'out my permission." he spoke again, his words helping to mental dig their graves. "Honest Alley, we was just havin' fun. We didn't do anyt'ing wrong ta' her." Specs whimpered. "Yeah honest Alley, we didn't mean no harm." Skittery added. Suddenly a loud round of laughter hit their ears, and Specs and Skittery looked to Alley and his boys, only to notice that they were all laughing. The boys shared a confused look, before Alley released their shoulders and walked back over to his sister. "Sorry boys, I had ta' pay wid' you a bit. It was all fun, and games 'dis time, but watch it. Get home, yah leadehs probably worried 'bout you two." Alley said, his face still scrunched up in laughter.

Nodding quickly, the boys scrambled quickly out the door. Their exit was followed by a medley of laughter, but they were running to fast to notice. They'd gotten off easy, but hell if they weren't good and ready to get back home. Once they were back in Manhattan, they stopped running. "You know, that wasn't so bad." Specs said, looking at Skittery with a slight smile. All Skittery could do was grumble, but of course he lashed out a fist to cuff Specs on the side the head. "Shut up."


	5. Chapter Four: The News

_Well I decided that, to make up for my long absence. I'll give you a few more chapters to keep you guys going. I really want to see what you guys think of the story, and if any of you are confused. Feel free to message me about it and I'd love to explain. This chapter is a little short, but I'll make it up to you. =)  
_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies, they are the property of Disney, but I really want them for my birthday...._

* * *

_(Later that day. )_

**The News**

Trouble was worried. Specs and Skittery had returned from the Bronx with good news, and a few interesting stories on how things had gone down with Alley. She had always known Alley to be a man of his word so she was sure he'd be coming. Bumlets and Jake had come back with another good word from Staten Island, and even Racetrack and Kid Blink had returned with word from Queens. But the two she was most anxious to return had yet to come back. Currently she was settled on the fire escape outside her window that gave her the perfect vantage point towards Brooklyn, and yet Boots and Snipes had yet to be seen. Her insides squirmed a little when she thought of what could have happened to the two. Brooklyn had a reputation of not being the kindest boroughs of them all… She'd been about ready to send Mush and Blink over there to find them, but before she could move an inch from her seat, she spotted the two boys she had been the subject of her worry.

Anxious to hear the outcome of their adventure, Trouble jumped back through her window, down the stairs, and right out the door to meet the two boys. Normally she wouldn't have shown this much emotion, but they had been gone quite a while and she was itching to learn why. Noticing her quick departure from the lodging house, Mush had followed right behind her having to jog to catch up. "Heya boys. What took ya so long?" Trouble inquired, giving the two boys each a stern look. "Sorry for da delay Trouble. We'se got held up in Brooklyn, but we'se got good news. Spot says he's comin, and he's gunna bring a few boys." Boots replied a small smile on his face despite his leaders stern looks.

The change in Trouble's personality was amusing to see. She went from stern and angry to surprised and speechless. For a moment she just stood there, letting it all sink in. So Brooklyn was coming? Why did that shock her so much? Not knowing what to say she looked at Boots again and smirked. "Good job kid. Now, go ova' ta Medda's and help da' udda's get t'ings set up fah tanight." she replied before placing a hand on the kids hat and rubbing it into his head a little. "You'se to Snipes." she said to the other younger boy. Thoughts buzzed in her head, and she nearly forgot to tell the two something before they headed off. " Hey! Also, make sure ya tell da' udda's ta' dress in deah best. We's got a rep ta' protect." she shouted after the two. The two nodded while they continued to walk away, making their leader smirk in pride.

* * *

_(Back to present)_

Silently the red head stood, and walked up to the small mirror she had in her room. She cringed when she caught her reflection. No wonder everyone was worried. Slowly she opened the small drawer in the vanity, and pulled out a off color rag. Without thinking she pressed the rag against her tongue, before dragging it across her face to clean away the blood and grime. A few minutes later, she had gotten her face as clean as she could manage. "Deah. Maybe now deh'll leave me be 'bout how'se I am." she commented gruffly, wincing a little as he jaw flexed some sore muscles. Surveying her battered self in her mirror, she couldn't stop the grimace that came with the realization that she was going to be bruised up tomorrow.

The one thing that all newsies know, is that bruises make customers shy away from you, and it's hard to sell papes looking like you just got out of a cage match. Though, the idea of Spot having to suffer through the same thing made her laugh a little. Secretly she was grateful for her savings, she could miss tomorrow, and still eat, but something inside her was screaming at her for even thinking about ditching out. Nothing would make Trouble leave her boys right now.. Especially now that they'd lost Brooklyn.


	6. Chapter Five: The Party

Here's the last chapter for the night. I hope you like it. It's so far the largest chapter so far. They are small chapters because I am separating them by what's happening. Tell me what you think, please no flames...

Disclaimer: Disney owns Newsies, not me... Sadly....

* * *

**Recap**: _Though, the idea of Spot having to suffer through the same thing made her laugh a little. Secretly she was grateful for her savings, she could miss tomorrow, and still eat, but something inside her was screaming at her for even thinking about ditching out. Nothing would make Trouble leave her boys right now.. Especially now that they'd lost Brooklyn._

* * *

_(Earlier that Night )_

**The Party**

The party was just beginning, and yet an onlooker would believe it had been going for hours. Joyous cheers, and laughter rang through the grand building that was Irvine hall. Only an hour in, and already hope was beginning to brew in the chests of all Manhattan's newsies. As well as the mixture of alcohols they had sucked down so far. Long time friends where appearing, and quickly being engulfed into the mass of mismatched New York news boys. Everyone was in high spirits, especially Manhattan's estranged leader. While everyone else was greeting friends, trouble was pacing back and forth up on the balcony outside. Behind her was a grand window where she had been watching the arrival of her fellow boroughs. The Newsies from The Bronx were already here, as well as a bunch from Stanton Island, and Queens. A lot of them knew her, and things were beginning to lighten up. She was hopeful, but if Brooklyn wasn't happy, her borough was as good as dead. The arrival of Brooklyn's famous leader signaled either the end, or the salvation of her newly obtained family. With her eyes to the sky, Trouble quietly whispered a rushed Irish prayer. This had to work…

Lost in her own thoughts, she failed to notice the large group of boys slinking closer to the outside doors. Moments later she was shaken from her reverie by a loud, booming group of cheers. "Well, guess now da' party can start." she grumbled under her breath. Lifting a hand to smooth out her shirt, she adjusted the many layers of clothes she had chosen to wear that night. In a fluid motion, she scooped up her pale, white news boy hat, and settled it down onto her head, before remembering to shove her braids up under it. She took one last steadying breath, and then entered the building once more. The level of noise had built itself up since the last time she'd been inside, and even just that was making her heart lift. For this small moment, she was going to allow herself to believe that they were saved. Though, of course, she was going to have to make that happen before it would on it's own.

As she walked down the stairs and out into the main room, she allowed a small, humble smile to grace her lips. There were so many of them, and as she had assumed, the alcohol was already being consumed by the newer arrivals. Weaving through the crowd as easily as smoke over water, she quickly made it to the stage. As her shoes hit the wood, her boys became silent, and thus everyone else became quiet as well. Standing at the front of the stage, she was slightly unnerved at how quickly the room had quieted; but she didn't have the time to wonder why. "What a turn out, eh boys?" she quipped, a smile twitching at her lips as she caught the looks of a few of her boys. A few bits of rumbling laughter reached her, but she could tell that not everyone was in the mood for her words. "A'right, I'm no Mouth when it comes ta' woids, but I wanna welcome all yous to da' party. We's got some big, important mugs heah ta'night, and loads of business ta' get to, but fah now let's just enjoy da night. It's still early, and Medda is anxious ta' see you boys again. Let's get this shin-dig going!" she finished with a bright smile. A riveting cheer rang out, and a medley of glass hitting together, and rambling conversation became her escort of stage.

At the bottom waiting for her was Mush, Race, and of course, her "little youngster" Les. "That was pretty amazing Trouble!" Mush gushed, while Race and Les just shared a knowing glance. Being used to such behavior from Mush, she just smirked and looked around a little. "Well thanks Mush." she replied, shooting him a smile, before looking at them all. Silently she pulled them all into a hug. "This might be it boys. Enjoy your night, it could be our last. I gotta go find Alley, Spot, and da' udda leaders." she said grimly. She hated to make them worry, but it was the truth of that matter. The smiles slowly faded from their faces, and at that moment the immensity of the situation had settled on their shoulders. "Good luck Trouble." Race said soberly. Les moved forward to wrap his arms around her, and with a soft sigh, she hugged him back. After a moment, he let go, and she slowly backed up a few feet. With a grunt, and a last round of mumbled good wishes; the red head threw herself into the crowd once more.

As she dodged people, and maneuvered around the many boys, and girls that had all shown that night, she anxiously fiddled with the buttons on the cuffs of her sleeves. Seeing Alley again after all this time was going to be strange, and it seemed to her that meeting Spot was going to just make the night. She knew where Alley was, she had caught sight of his shaggy brown hair from the stage. Trouble would see to him first, if just to see where he stood. Her piercing, icy gray eyes graced his figure cautiously, one that she would know anywhere. She had grown up around him, fought with him and beside him, and hell; she had even thought him attractive for a week or so. A natural smile escaped onto her lips, and she couldn't stop herself from chuckling a little. She was being stupid, of course Alley was going to side with her, they were practically siblings. Beside him sat Hookie, Cricket, and of course Siren. Ah Siren, Trouble and her had never really gotten along. Mostly for the fact that Alley used to hang out with her more then his own sister way back when. Siren had been a real girl back then, and Trouble had been the tom boy sibling that he'd always wanted. Yes, this was going to be an interesting meeting indeed.

"Ey Alley. Long time no see, yeah?" she spoke, smirking as a few of Alley's boys gave her curious, and confused looks. She was used to that honestly. Some of these boys were new, and knowing their Leaders tendencies, probably thought she was just one of his past conquests. The older heads like Siren, Hookie, and Cricket though, they knew that she was a girl, and also how impossible that idea was. See, Alley didn't bat for the same team that other guys did. Instead of looking up skirts, he was to busy playing with zippers, and manly chests. Speaking of the old heads, Siren was shooting her one nasty death glare, while the two boys just stared at her like they'd seen a ghost. "Ey deah Trouble. Been a while. We's eva gunna talk about dat night?" a voice broke the silence. He hadn't turned around, and Trouble paused.

What was she supposed to say to that? As fingers agitated around her cuff buttons, she racked her brain for a response. "Come on Trouble, cat's got ya' tongue?" he taunted in that overly calm voice he always possessed. A flash of red hit her cheeks momentarily as she fought the urge to retaliate with something rude. The soft mingling laughter of Alley's boys was like a smelling salt to Trouble's mind. Snapping out of her thoughts, she sent a few quick death glares to the few snickering boys, and gave the finger to Siren, who in turn, began to pout. A split second later, the flush of her cheeks was replaced with a similar coolness. "Nah, dog go da' cat foist." she quipped in response. Her smirk returned, and the blush faded into memory.

Walking up beside the boy, she lowered a hand to his shoulder and leaned down. "When t'ings cool down, you'll have your talk. For now, we's gotta talk of 'udda t'ings." she muttered, making Alley's new boys squirm a little. Alley, being of very quick wits, smirked when he saw what Trouble was doing to a few of his boys. "Cool it boys, Trouble here's not my type." he chuckled. He turned his head a little to glance at his red headed friend, and for a moment neither spoke. A quick head nod from Alley, and he was out of his seat. Trouble turned around, and allowed the crowd to consume her. "Cricket, your in charge 'til I get back." was all that he said, before he to was swallowed up by the party. "Who was dat?" one of the new boys asked. "That was nothing more then a lying, double-crossing, two-bit, whoreish flea bag." Siren responded, her voice dripping with venomous spite. "Damn Siren, you'd think after three years you'd stop being such a jealous bitch." Cricket chirped. The table went silent as everyone turned to look at Cricket with astounded looks on their faces. "Cricket, you... you talked!" Hookie gasped, his eyes wide. It was true, Cricket very rarely spoke, and if he did it wasn't normally to them. "Well, it's true, and someone needed to say it." Cricket replied, before once again going silent. After the intial shock wore off of Siren, she huffed, and threw herself out of her chair; storming away. "Good one mate." one of the boys said, before pouring Cricket another shot.


	7. Chapter Six: The Fight

This is Chapter Six in my series "Trouble In Brooklyn. Enjoy. REVIEW AND I'LL GIVE YOU AN E-COOKIE!

Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies, but I do own everyone you don't recognize from the movie. EX: Trouble, Alley, Siren.... Random Brooklyn newsies...

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_Like ghosts, the two swerved through the many people, dodging, and winding their way through toward the infamous Brooklyn leader's table. Once there they stopped, observing the poker game that the entire table seemed to be engaged in. The serious looks on all the players faces stopped her from just barging in, for now. All of their faces were scrunched up in their own unique "poker faces", and pennies, nickels, and a sparse few dimes littered the center of the table. Steely gray eyes skimmed over the players, and she nearly laughed when she noticed that nearly all the players were light haired, and bore tanned skin; normal qualities of a Brooklyn newsie. Because they spent so much time in the sun, between selling, and haunting the Brooklyn docks, they seemed to always look like they had just walked in from the beach. As she watched, she caught the subtle hints that she'd been trained to pick up, everyone had a tell._

_"Call." a boy mumbled. From where she was standing, she couldn't quite tell who had spoken, but right after it had been said, most of the players folded. The rest who planned to continue, threw in a few more pennies. As soon as everyone who was staying in the game had bet, they threw in their cards. "Three pair." one said clearly, and as he did, she realized it was the same one who had spoken before. He was clearly no longer proud of his hand, as he noticed the remaining player's faces light up a bit. It was the next boy's turn to show, and silently Trouble studied him. He had sandy blond hair, that she could see, but with her distance away, it was hard to see him well. The boy placed down his card with a cocky grin, "Read 'um and weep boys, Straight Flush." As she continued to watch, she noticed his icy, blue eyes glint with undeserved pride. The way he had spoken, he seemed to believe he had the whole game in the bag. Already Trouble did not like this boy. In her eyes, he was arrogant, and he was so full of himself that she could almost see his ego growing more each second. She even found herself cheering on his opponent, and at that thought, she removed her gaze from the from the boy to glance at the third, and final player._

_She was pleasantly surprised to see that it was the one and only Racetack Higgins. Of course this boy had a good hand, but clearly he didn't know Race as well as he thought. "Ah crap, 'dat's a good hand..." the Italian muttered as he glanced at his hand with a slightly worried expression. For a moment she was sure he had lost, but then she remembered who he was. Race would never openly show that he was worried about a hand, and the twitch at his lips only set her belief in stone; Race had already won. "But mine's betteh, Royal Flush." the Italian cooed. His face broke out into a wide smirk as he placed his cards down gently on the table. Trouble couldn't help but chuckle quietly to herself was Race's smile continued to grow, while the arrogant smirk filtered off the other boy's face. While Race swept up his winnings, she felt to cold blue eyes of the mystery boy fall on her. For a split second, worry flashed through her. There was no way in hell that he had heard her laughing. So as quickly as the panic had began, it ceased and she continued to keep her calm composure, as he seemed to study her. Catching his eyes in her own steely grays, she held his gaze firmly until a tapping broke her stare._

_That little action broke their staring competition, and allowed for Trouble to peer over her shoulder; prompting Alley to speak. "I see you've spotted our next conquest?" he mused quietly. Her mind buzzed with thoughts, and questions. So this was the infamous Spot Conlon.. He didn't look at all as intimidating as his reputation demanded.; but of course, Trouble was more of a "judge them after you meet them" type of person. Turning her gaze back to the Brooklynite, she was delighted to see that he had stopped watching her, it gave her the opportunity to observe him without him knowing. "Ah I see." she muttered back to Alley, as she remembered he had spoken to her._

_This boy, he had a strong jaw, and and now that she could get a good look at him, his eyes held a lot more intelligence then she had first assumed. His hair was more brown then blond, and she say a similarity between them in his eyes. They held a serious, and guarded appearance to them, one that mirrored her own. She diverted her eyes back to the game, as she didn't want to be caught staring at him. She noticed one boy was beginning to shuffle the cards again, as if to deal out another game. Silently she decided that she wasn't in the mood to wait through another game, and that to do so would be both tedious, and uneventful. At that point, she decided to make her move. Stepping toward the table, she smirked. "Well, I sure hope 'dat you can handle ya' alcohol betteh den ya' can ya' cah'ds Conlon." she said jokingly. The cards in the boy's hands stopped moving, and Race looked up at her with a horrified look, cigar handing out of his mouth dangerously._

_Apparently she had said something wrong, because Race wasn't the only one that had stopped what they were doing. Spot's blue eyes flashed dangerously as he looked up at her. "Yeah? Yeah? Says who?" he spat in reply. Grinning madly, she pulled out an empty chair, and made herself comfortable. "Troubba' Leadeh a 'dah Manhattan Borough." she replied in a cool voice, her smirk never faltering, no matter the angry look that appeared on Spot's face. She noticed that Race had suddenly busied himself with counting his change. "Really? A scrawny t'ing ain'tcha? I es'pected someone a bit biggah' considerin' 'dah stories floatin' around." he retorted, his lips curling up in a cruel smile. Trouble felt her shoulder tighten, as well as the muscles in her jaw, and arms. "Wha'd you say Conlon?" she seethed through clenched teeth. Spot's smile widened as he realized he'd struck a nerve, and the glint of malice, and amusement in her eyes did nothing to quell her rising temper, and blood pressure. "I t'ink ya' hoid me, Troubba." he replied coolly, accentuating her name with his obvious amusement._

_Just as Trouble felt her resolve, to keep her butt firmly placed in her seat, fading, she felt a hand grasp her shoulder painfully tight. As if by magic, she began to feel all her anger melting away to a much needed calm. Reminding herself mentally to thank Alley for that later, she watched as Spot's grin faltered. She could tell he was itching to provoke her into something stupid, and Alley had just ruined his fun. That bothered her, but what got her riled up the most, was that he would try to pull that here, of all places; right in front of all these people. Carefully glancing around, she noticed the tense feeling in the air; and also the fact that most of the boys at the table, and a few that had been standing around the table had stopped what they were doing and were now staring at her. Calmly she spoke again, "We got business ta' get tah' Conlon." Alley's grip on her shoulder finally loosened, and she in turn rolled her shoulder to loosen up the kink his hold had put in her muscles._

_Spot had apparently noticed her mood change, and he began to grin. "Ah. Ya' friend deah not like you quarellin' wid 'udda boys?" he began, his grin twisting into a vile smirk. "Look boys, now we know why 'Hattan and dah Bronx is so close." he remarked with a sneer, his eyes glaring at her cruelly. An echo of snickers followed his words, and before Alley could grab her; Trouble was already over the table, and in the process of tackling Spot to the ground._

* * *

_(Back to present time)_

As the night dragged on, the red head found herself slowly falling victim to her bruises, and aching muscles. It was hard for her to admit, but she had nearly been beaten tonight. She had held her own, and not matter how many times he through her to the ground, she always managed to pull herself up off the ground, and continue the fight. He had said something about how his inability to kick her ass had been because of the alcohol he had consumed that night. Really, Trouble wasn't going to argue that. In fact, she was pretty sure that his lack of clarity was the only thing that had allowed her to be currently still standing, and not bed-ridden for a week. Trouble feared very few things, but fighting Spot had irked her a little, and she wasn't looking forward to fighting him again anytime soon. It was a possibility though, so she was going to commit herself to morning training sessions again.

Finally, after hours of fighting herself to stay awake; Trouble found herself easing her beaten body down slowly onto her bed. Tomorrow was going to be a busy day for her, and she needed to at least get a few hours of sleep. As she carefully pulled her thin, ratty covers over herself, she sighed deeply into her pillow. Limping of not, at the crack of dawn she would head for Brooklyn.


	8. Chapter Seven: The Conclusion

So, this is the seventh chapter in my Trouble in Brooklyn Series. I am a little disappointed by the few Reviews I am getting, but the ones that have, I want to thank you a million. Please no flames, and it you see any errors please don't hesitate to message me about it. Also I separated the two fight scenes for a reason. To Explain:_ Italics means that it's the past_, normal writing is present. Maybe it'll be less confusing? Tell me?

Disclaimer: I do not own newsies. Sadly.... T.T

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_Trouble felt them both fall backwards, red tingeing the corners of her vision. No one talked like that about her friend without dire consequences, and that meant no one. They landed in a huff, and while Spot tried to sort out what exactly had just happened, Trouble sat up and thrust a loose-handed punch into his right cheek. The hit landed sloppily, and as it the pain had jolted him back into reality, Spot shot up and threw Trouble off of him. Scrambling away from Spot's kicks, she was able to gather her bearings, and get to her feet. Once standing, she barely dodged in time to miss being hit by a strong right-hook. Taking a sharp intake of breath, she took her stance, and waited._

_Her heart was beating rapidly against her chest, almost to the point she was afraid it was going to burst through her chest. Spot's eyes seared through her, and the intensity of his gaze told her that she was just some punk that had gone and pissed him off; there was no respect for her in that gaze. Her brain was reminding her to watch her head, but her body was also telling her that to many blows to my chest could break me. According to his reputation, Spot was one of the best fighters out there, and surprisingly she was excited to test that._

_She took another steadying breath, before I began backing away towards the door. "Let's take dis outside Conlon." she sneered, before walking out the door and waiting outside. As she thought, Spot was eager to follow, and before he could engage her again, she spoke. "If we're gunna to do dis, we're gunna do dis right." A large ground had followed them out, amongst them stood Race. "What does Manhattan propose Troubba?" Race's voice was unsure, his palms sweating. Trouble smirked, the cold hate in her eyes making it hellish. "Propose? I don't propose nothin'. I challenge." She replied. "Challenge?" Spot questioned, a cruel smirk on his face. "One on one. Last man standing gets to walk away." She explained. "And the loser?" Spot questioned again. The smirk on Trouble's lips began a grin. "The losers bleed."_

_Spot lunged, and Trouble stepped neatly out of the way, slamming her fist into his neck as he went by. Rotating quickly, she was barely able to miss being hit by one solid fist, as she fluidly ducked and spun, coming up with an uppercut to the boy's jaw. It was easy to see that Spot was intrigued, and with a smirk, he spoke. "Finally it's getting worthwhile." The Manhattan Queen once again began to circle, until Trouble directly was opposite Spot. The two moved at the same time, Trouble threw everything into her right arm, and Spot braced for her attack. Spot dropped his torso backwards, and to the side while his feet stayed in place, landing in an odd looking crab-like position. Thinking fast, he flipped up his legs, slamming them into Trouble's side, sending her to the ground._

_Spot was only in the handstand for a second, the entire maneuver extremely quick, but that was all Trouble needed. She caught herself gracefully, and used her momentum to spin, her right fist colliding with the Brooklyn King's side. Fabric and skin ripped as Spot lost his balance, gravity speeding his decent to the asphalt. Trouble leapt over the moaning form of a newsie who had strayed to close, and had been knocked into at some point, and rushed the grounded Leader. The Newsies yelled, their voices both insulting and rallying; but the new the rules of the duel. There was nothing they could do._

_Alley could feel the Newsies around him. Kid Blink had moved slightly, preparing to catch hold of him should he try to help. He knew the rules though, and as much as he wanted to fight her fights, he couldn't. So, he focused his entire being on the mess of men before him, so he could point out flaws to help her with later. Blood was staining the tatters of Spot's shirt, and he appeared stunned. Trouble was sneering, her bleeding, and raw fist drawn back to finish off the fight with a blow to the face. Somehow, Les had made his way through the growing circle of people to stand right near Race. When he saw who was fighting, he tried to rush in. "No kid. Sorry, we can't interfeh, and Troubba would kill me if I let ya' run in deah." Race explained, pulling the kid back, and encircling him in his arms._

_"TROUBLE!!"_

_The voice was high and scared, breaking through the Newsie's noise. She knew that voice.. it was Les, but what was he doing here? Trouble faltered, and the King came back to life. Spot flipped over away from Trouble into a push up position, then rose lithely to his feet. He reached up with one hand, taking a fistful of his worn, stained, and torn shirt and pulling. It easily came away in his hand, leaving him bare to the waist. The summer's tan was just starting to fade on his smooth skin, taut over sculpted muscles. His side was missing a chunk of skin, blood slowly seeping down his side. Spot tossed his head, getting the hair out of his face._

_Trouble, was helping the fallen newsie up, keeping one eye on the wounded Brooklynite. He was grinning. In a terrifying, ominous, care-free way, Spot was grinning. Race let out a worried sigh, looking down at Les with a contemplative glance. Just as he was going to take the kid away from the fight, Trouble rushed Spot. They collided with a resounding thud, and he tossed her aside like a sack of potatoes. With a growl, she rolled, and sprung back onto her feet before any of the kicks he had continued with had a chance to land. Using her legs, she sprung at him, and tackled him once more to the ground. For a moment, Spot was stunned, having possibly hit his head hard against the floor. Reacting upon her instincts she sent a flurry of punches into his jaw, but only landed a few before she was nailed in the jaw, and was forced to roll off. He was quick to recover, more so then her, and as soon as she had stumbled back onto her feet, he resumed kicking her ass. His hits were powerful and well placed, and once more she was thrown to the ground with a sickening thud._

_Tired, and bleeding, she dragged herself once more to her feet. "Why wont you just stay down!" Spot roared, and all Trouble could do was chuckle. "Because I'm here to show you that Manhattan bows to no one." she shot back, spitting out some blood that had leaked into her mouth. Growling furiously, she launched herself at Spot once more, this time managing to step forward, and noticing a break in his defenses was able to land a disgustingly powerful uppercut to the Brooklynite's jaw. As bone hit bone, Spot flew back a few feet, and landed in a heap on the ground, but not before getting in a swift, and crippling roundhouse to her ribs. As they were both sprawled on the ground, the onlookers gasped in horror as the two colossal leaders laid still, barely stirring._

_Silently they both stumbled to their feet over time, but unlike before, they both stayed apart. Neither had the strength to fight anymore, and Trouble had just noticed that it had started raining. Her bones ached, and she could already feel bruises blossoming all over her body. Her breathing was ragged, and uneven, and she lacked the strength to do much else then crouch down, and breathe. Brood slowly dribbled out of her mouth, and landed on the ground beneath her with a soft splash. She hadn't won, but neither had Spot, he knew it too. The shouts that had once egged them on had grown silent, excluding a few soft murmurs of concern. "Ah stop ya bawling, I'se fine..." she trailed off, her voice betraying her as it wavered and cracked. Her entire body hurt like hell, and a small bit of laughter came as a response from her boys. She knew that as soon as Brooklyn withdrew, they'd be at her side in seconds. Lifting her pounding head, she glanced over at Spot who was in a similar position. "I didn't want ta' fight, ya know..." she admitted, glancing at bother his, and her own boys. Boy had she fucked up._

_"I'll kick yer ass next time. I'se not fully sobeh' or you wouldn't be standin'." he slurred out, as he forced himself to stand upright. A sudden rush of adrenaline had her standing straight as well, and for that moment she forgot about her possibly broken ribs. "Ah shut it, ya' just pissed 'cause ya couldn't beat a goil!" she snarled, before pulling off her blood, and dirt smeared hat. She was surprised it had lasted the fight, but the look on Spot's face was worth it. "Y-Your a goil?!" he responded, disbelief obvious by the shocked look on his face. "A' course!" she spat, before collapsing back to the ground._

_"It's over." Race said as he let out a relieved sigh, as he looked down at Les with a comforting smile. Then, just as Race said, it was over. The circle broke on one side, and Spot's boys walked over to help the injured Brooklynite out of the crowd of crude jeers. Her boys also came up to help her, and as her boys fussed over her, all she could see was the backs of Brooklyn as they left._


End file.
